


sweet as cherry wine

by ArchieFish



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Domestic Violence, M/M, Oral Sex, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 05:12:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16675144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchieFish/pseuds/ArchieFish
Summary: When you look at someone through rose-colored glasses, all the red flags just look like flags.---A character study of sorts





	sweet as cherry wine

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The title, and the general vibe I wanted to capture is from Hozier's Cherry Wine. I highly suggest listening to it before and while reading this.
> 
> 2\. The summary is from BoJack Horseman's Season 2, Episode 10

The fireplace makes John's skin glow golden, bathing him in a honey-hued halo. Rook traces the ink on his arms, the seven sins as deadly as the man; he gently traces the scars on his chest, traces the ~~sloth~~ carved like a brand. He's breathing slow and deep; chest rising and falling, drawing Rook, the whole world into stillness. His normally slicked back hair is mussed. Rook curls his fingers in his beard, lightly traces the line of his right jaw to his chin, notes the pink tinge on his cheeks.

The world is quiet, for once, the only sounds allowed to exist are the crackling of the fire and the crickets in the distance. The interior of the ranch is dark, lights turned off in favor of the fireplace. The light coming from it casts dancing shadows on the stone walls, the cedar panels, the ceiling joists. The bear skin rug that Rook and John are lying on is a little sticky but warm, made warmer by the blanket that Rook, laughing, lovingly stole from upstairs. In the skylight behind the fireplace, Rook can see a cloudless Montana sky made fond by the waxing crescent moon, made elegant by the stars dotting it.

Rook breathes in slowly, soaking in the peace, the stillness, the quiet. He never sleeps after they make love. He likes watching John rest, watching his face relax the closest it can get to peace.

A peggie enters, skirting around the broken china and glass and quickly averts his eyes upon seeing them. John wakes like a dragon disturbed from slumber, slow and terrible, the fire inside just as fiery as the one behind him.

"Yes?" he asks curtly.

"Sir, the Resistance has taken another outpost,sir. Near the Henbane, sir." The peggie is blushing.

"Dismissed."

The peggie leaves perplexed and John is smiling.

Rook leaves the ranch just before dawn, limping slightly.

\---

"Which door frame did you bang your wrist on this time?" Grace asks dryly.

Rook just grunts, "Some peggie shrine." He head shots a peggie just before it disappears around the corner.

"And the cheek?"

"Tripped and fell on a rock." A shot to the heart of the peggie that found the first one.

"Right, and the hickeys?"

Rook doesn't answer.

Grace isn't judging him. They've been through too much for that. No, Grace is just worried. Grace knows. Not much he can hide from her. This line of questioning has been happening so often, she probably knows all the variations of his answers by heart. No, this isn't really to judge him, it's more her way of checking up on him.

And he's fine. Really he is.

\---

Rook sneaks into the ranch just in time to see Holly leave through the front door. John is shirtless and sweaty and is surprised to see him.

"Guess I should come back another time?"

"Oh no, you don't." John strides towards him and grabs his wrist just as he makes to leave.

He places one hand on the back of Rook's neck and another on the small of his back and presses him close, capturing Rook's open mouth in a messy thing that he can't quite call a kiss but still full of tongue and teeth and need. Rook wraps his arms around John's head and lifts his face when they both remember that they need air to breathe and to give John more access to his throat, but then John stops. Then his hands are tight around his throat and fear coils inside Rook's gut, hot and tight, what did he do wrong now?

"Have you been fucking that Drubman whore again, babe? I can smell her on you." Smack. Red in Rook's face again.

"John, I don't-we never-" Rook tries to pry John's hand off his throat.

"Or maybe that Nicholas?" John just speaks over him."Couldn't be satisfied with me, and you just had to go down on a married man?" Smack! "You slut."

"John, please-" Rook is pleading with what little air he has left. More red.

"Or maybe that pyromaniac friend of yours? What, am I not a nutjob enough for you?" That ice-cold glint in his blue eyes is all Rook could see. SMACK! And that actually draws blood.

The sight of which brings John back. It always does.

"Oh babe, I'm so sorry." Rook is still gasping for air, John is tearing at his hair. "I'm so, sorry. I thought..."

He steps forward and envelops Rook in a warm embrace. Rook can still smell Holly on him. A stab in the gut.

"Forgive me, love. I know you would never actually forsake me." John is cradling his face in his hands, wiping away the streak of blood. "I-My sins just get the better of me sometimes, I can't help it." John kisses his forehead, tries to coax Rook back open. His voice is strained and cracked when he says, "Would it make you feel better if you did the same to me? I won't step away. I promise, just please."

The sound of which brings Rook back. It always does.

"No, John, I won't hurt you." Rook can't bring himself to, even if his life depended on it. Numbly and vaguely, he thinks it does.

And just like that, John Seed is beautiful again. Smiling, gently this time, as he pulls Rook in, presses their bodies close together, worships with his mouth and hands roving all over Rook; and Rook, Rook is just clinging on for dear life, the world outside this fireplace long since faded away.

\---

Rook is at the Spread Eagle after stealing back the Widowmaker. He's taking a breather by trying to finish off all of Mary May's secret stash of liquors, and failing. She seems to be picking them off trees because no matter how much he, Sharky, and Hurk Jr. drink, the bar is always well-stocked.

She grabs his right forearm after Rook attempts to order their fourth round.

"Rook..."

"Don't, Mary May. Just fucking don't."

"We're winning, Rook. I don't care what Sharky or Adelaide says, John Seed is a madhouse on two legs. You don't have to keep doing this."

But Rook does. He can't turn away, he never could, even as a child. Memories briefly surface of the time he was badly beat up when he was seven because Chad wouldn't leave Tommy alone, the time he had to get rabies injections when he was eleven because he tried to save a bobcat that Nessie found, the time when he was sixteen when he covered up the cigarette burns he got after trying to convince Chad to stop hanging out with the shady gang. Rook has never been able to turn away from people who needed him. He just can't.

And Mary May knows this.

And so does John Seed.

And, boy, John Seed's issues are like pissed peacocks: just as fearsome, and just as statuesque.

But Rook doesn't like to admit that.

\---

John Seed is a fearsome, furious man. Sometimes Rook thinks the Wrath tattoo should have gone on him instead.

Honestly, he's surprised he can still form coherent thoughts while John Seed is fucking his thick cock into him like he lost something inside his ass. John notices his momentary distraction and punishes him by pulling out, the emptiness feeling like a gaping maw.

"Are you thinking of someone else, babe?" John's voice carries a hint of ice.

"No, babe, you were so good, I was seriously thinking I just might get knocked up." Rook replies desperately. He doesn't think he can handle two episodes in one night.

His reply seems to amuse John and he's laughing his beautiful little laughs, guffaws into his arm. And Rook is smiling, too, at his own ridiculous excuse. "Oh, love, you say the silliest things." And John sinks into him again, the pressure of him making Rook mewl, continuing his brutal pace.

The first thing you have to know about Rook is that he doesn't have much, even before Eden's Gate. He had just moved into the county, had barely unpacked his boxes before being thrown right into the job. Barely two days after his training, he's thrown right into Eden's Gate, right into John Seed's lap. He can't complain, though. John is gorgeous, and Rook is a simple man with tastes disproportionate to his appearance or capabilities.

The second thing, you already know, Rook can't turn away. Four-year-old Rook can't turn away from the little bird that fell from the nest. Seven-year-old Rook can't turn away when Chad is picking at the new kid again. Twelve-year-old Rook can't turn away when his mom is shouting at his dad for the third time that week. Eighteen-year-old Rook can't turn away from the gang that beat Chad to death when he tried to leave. Twenty-three-year-old Rook can't turn away when he saw Nessie drug Lisa and carry her into one of the rooms. And twenty-eight-year-old Rook can't turn away from John Seed, all knives and needles and staples. He just can't.

The third thing, Rook doesn't like to admit he's wrong. He'll suffer right through the consequences if it means he doesn't have to admit his mistakes. Childish, of course, immature. John was wrong about his sin. It wasn't Wrath, it was Pride. Case in point, the man currently trying his very best to open Rook's ass like Walmart on Black Friday. He knows this, whatever it is, is wrong, but he can't turn away. He can't turn away from John fucking Seed, when he can see that he's needed, so needed. He can't turn away even when John is taking what little he has left. And he doesn't like to admit that he's letting John take it anyway.

How can this be wrong, after all? John's tinged cheeks dotted with sweat, his brows slightly furrowed in concentration, his lithe form shifting and rippling as he fucks into Rook like the Collapse will come if he doesn't. How can it be wrong when John presses close to him, whispers promises he can't keep but Rook believes him all the same. How can it be wrong when he can actually make John smile with no malice, no pain, no madness behind it.

Saying that John Seed has issues is the understatement of the year but at times like these when John is so open, so naked in his earnest need, and Rook can provide it, who's to say it's wrong?

A fourth thing about Rook that he keeps stashed in the back of his mind, that never sees the light of thoughts, but is there. Rook just likes to be needed. Maybe he likes it a little too much.

\---

Rook's fishing by the lesser Blissed parts of the Henbane when Sharky finds him. He sets down his flamethrower, pulls out a beer from God-knows-where, and uses the lip of his own flamethrower to open it.

"You know, I have a bottle opener right here."

Sharky just shrugs as he takes a long gulp.

"So... uh..."

Rook raises a questioning eyebrow.

"The Sheriff sent me to uh..."

Now both his eyebrows are raised.

"... You know when I said that John had a hard-on for you?" Rook rolls his eyes. "An' that you should just, uh, fuck to get it over with?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, uh, I kinda think it's getting out of hand, you know what I mean?"

"You think?"

"Yeah, man. I mean, I get it, you're just trying to save as many people as you can here," Sharky pauses and looks him straight in the eye. "But I hope that includes you, too."

Rook is silent for a long while, contemplating this surprising bit of insight from Sharky.

"Thanks, Sharky, I'll think about it."

Sharky beams and they sit in silence.

\---

Rook keeps his promise to Sharky. He thinks about it, he really does. Just maybe not as long and hard as he should have but, he does. It's just that he can't keep thinking too much about it when John Seed's tongue is doing wonders to the underside of his cock. It's not fair to Sharky and all the people that care for him that he should think about it only now but honestly, Rook just forgot.

John begins sucking and Rook thinks he sees planet Jupiter whiz by outside the skylight. And John just keeps on sucking. Vaguely, he thinks that if being a Herald doesn't work out, John has bright future being a vacuum cleaner. Then he stops sucking and takes Rook deeper into his throat, nose bumping Rook's pubes, humming Amazing Grace, which Rook thinks is creepy, but doesn't subtract from his libido.

"John, I'm-" He grunts out a warning before spilling his cum. John enthusiastically drinks it down, making a show of his gulps with a cocky grin, which is impressive considering Rook's cock is still in his mouth.

"Oh, love," John says when he pulls off, wiping his lips, "you're always so sweet."

Rook wants to reply it was the canned pineapples he ate at the prison that morning but John is already smiling contentedly, eyes fluttering shut by the fireplace, calloused fingers begging Rook to take his place beside him.

If anything, John is the one who looks sweet as cherry wine.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. If you are suffering from domestic abuse or currently in an unhealthy or abusive relationship, please talk to someone, hell, talk to me. I hope you find the courage to leave your undeserving partner. Don't ever stay in a relationship that makes you feel small.
> 
> 2\. I have been lucky enough to have been spared from abuse, and I did my best to write the scene as respectfully as I can. That said, if you think it isn't accurate, or don't appreciate a scene like that, please tell me and we can discuss. I have put warning tags for a reason.
> 
> 3\. This is my first work in a long time, if you'll notice from my profile. As such, I am always appreciative of any kind of feedback!
> 
> 4\. Joseph's and Jacob's versions are on the way!


End file.
